Actions & Motives
by Cae Thomas aka CNL
Summary: Fate will find you wicked and turns you victim for every thing you have done. So justify the reason to kill, I bet you will. Fooling no one but yourself... I wish you well.


Nothing like this had ever happened at Hogwarts before. No student had ever snapped and gone on a merciless killing spree. The castle had been sealed shut, the professors pulling all students into classrooms and securing the doors. Fourteen had died before full lock-down occurred, thirteen students and one teacher.

Harry Potter paced the crowded Transfiguration classroom. Ron leaned against a desk, his arm around Hermione's shoulders as she clung to him fearfully.

"Why isn't anyone doing anything?" Harry asked suddenly, rounding on his friends.

"Snape died trying to stop him, Harry," Hermione said quietly. "There's no chance of reasoning with him."

"No one's tried to reason with him, have they? No one's tried talking to him." He looked at the door. "I'm going out there." Ron looked at him incredulously.

"Are you out of your mind?" he exclaimed. "You know what he's like normally. He's impossible to talk to on a daily basis. What makes you think you'll be able to get through to him now he's lost it?"

"You don't know until you try, Ron. We can't just sit back and wait for him to get to us. I'll need you to distract McGonagall for me." He pulled his invisibility cloak from his bag. Hermione flung herself into his arms, tears running down her face.

"Please don't do this, Harry," she whispered. "You don't have to play the hero."

"This isn't about playing the hero," Harry replied, stepping back. "It's about doing the right thing." And with that, he wrapped the cloak around his shoulders and disappeared.

Hermione looked deploringly at Ron, who shrugged as if to say 'You know how he is'. The girl sighed and pretended to faint, collapsing into Ron's arms. He yelled for McGonagall, who left her post by the door. Ron watched over her shoulder as the door opened and closed, seemingly of its own accord.

Once he was safely in the hallway, Harry pulled the Marauder's Map from his pocket. Scanning the parchment, he quickly found what he was looking for—the little dot labeled 'Draco Malfoy' was standing alone in the middle of the Charms corridor two floors up. Harry nodded and slipped the map back into his robes before heading for the stairs.

Harry took a deep breath and let his invisibility cloak fall to the floor as he stepped around the corner. Ahead of him was the blonde, his back turned to the Gryffindor as he stood in the center of the corridor.

"Malfoy," Harry called. The blonde turned, his wand raised. A strange look filled his eyes, one so full of fear and at the same time an odd mixture of hatred and sadness and confusion that Harry had never seen before. Harry raised his hands in peace, stepping slowly towards the Slytherin.

"Don't move, Potter!" Draco hissed, his entire body tensing as he aimed his wand at Harry's chest. "Throw away your wand." Harry stopped and reached slowly into his robes, tossing his wand onto the floor.

"I'm not going to hurt you, Draco. I just want to help."

"Like hell! When have you ever wanted to help me? Never!"

"Times change, Draco." The blonde snorted. "Please, lower your wand. I just want to talk."

"I'm not interested in talking, Potter."

"Shame. We've never had the chance to really get to know each other, Draco. We could be friends."

"It's too late for that."

"It's never too late. Why are you doing this, Draco?"

"I've had enough. I'm sick of being treated like shite because of my father. I've never been like him, I've never wanted to be a death eater."

"Then why take this approach? It doesn't send the best message, you know."

"Fuck you, Potter. What do you know about it? Everyone's always loved you. You're the Golden Boy."

"I never asked to be the center of attention, Draco. I hate it. Why do you crave it?"

"I just want to be seen—the _real_ me, not the monster everyone creates in their minds."

"I understand, Draco. I know what it's like to live under the dark cloud of the person people expect you to be, of the life they project on you."

"This isn't about you, Potter! Don't you get it? For once, something is _not about you_!" The blonde was getting angrier, his wand hand becoming more and more unsteady as he glared at the Gryffindor. Harry offered up his empty hands, looking calmly at the hysterical Slytherin.

"I'm sorry, Draco. I'm sorry things have turned out this way. But it's not the end, you know? There's still time. Put the wand down, Draco. Let me help you. I want to help."

"Fuck off!"

"Draco, please. We both know this isn't what you want. Think about it—it's not helping your chances of showing people the real Draco Malfoy. They expect you to be cruel, like a Death Eater. How is this helping to change that projection? You have to show them kindness, Draco. Fear will only make things worse for you." Draco's arm lowered slightly, and Harry felt a faint twinge of hope deep in his chest. His words were getting through to the blonde. That was a good sign. "I know we didn't get off to a good start in first year. We were both childish. I want to be friends. Don't you? I want a chance to get to know the real Draco Malfoy, the one behind the cold front that we've seen for six years." He held out his hand. "What do you say, Draco? Do we still have a shot at friendship?"

The blonde's eyes narrowed. "What are you playing at?" he hissed. Harry shook his head.

"I'm not playing at anything. I'm not trying to trick you, Draco. I just want to help." By this time, doors had begun to open ever so slightly along the corridor. Without even looking, Harry knew dozens of eyes were watching the scene, waiting to see who one out in the end. He took a deep breath, his mind made up to show them a happy ending to this horrendous day. "Put the wand away, Draco. We both know you're no murderer." The blonde began to shake, his arm slipping another few inches. It wasn't anger that fueled him now—it was remorse—and Harry felt no fear. Draco wasn't dangerous, not really. He was just a scared, mistreated boy looking for someone to care. Harry knew the feeling well.

"I didn't want to kill them," the blonde whispered, his voice thick with tears.

"I know, Draco."

"I didn't want to hurt anyone." His arm fell to his side, his wand held loosely in his fist. He was beginning to cry, the tears running down his face. Harry felt genuinely sorry for him.

"I know you didn't, Draco. It's alright. Everything's going to be fine." The blonde looked up at him, a strange light in his eyes. Before Harry knew it, Draco was raising his wand, pressing the tip to his own temple. "Draco, no!" Harry reached out for him, panic filling him.

"Avada kedavra!" A flash of emerald light, and the pale boy collapsed to the ground. Harry stood in shock, his eyes fixed on the lifeless boy before him, as doors opened all along the corridor and cheers filled the air. A hundred hands clapped him on the back, celebrating the dark victory as Harry choked in a few ragged breaths. Gone, just like that. He was so close, so close to helping him. A whole life, gone in the blink of an eye. And they were celebrating; Harry felt disgusted.

There was a memorial service held for the thirteen students and Severus Snape early the following week. Draco Malfoy was never acknowledged. Even though he refused to explain why, Harry was furious that his classmates would rather just forget the blonde had ever existed than acknowledge his loss. Yes, he had killed fourteen people in cold blood but he had still been a student there, had been in classes with all of them for seven years. How could he be so easily forgotten? Murderer or not, Draco Malfoy had been his classmate, and Harry was not about to erase his memories of the blonde because of the mistakes he had made.


End file.
